


a crimson headache

by lettertotheworld



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Shootweek18, domestic assassin girlfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 18:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14816759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettertotheworld/pseuds/lettertotheworld
Summary: “Maybe it was easy.” Shaw shoots her a questioning look and Root lifts her shoulders in a small shrug. “If you care about someone enough, I mean. If it’s honest, then everything else is just noise.”





	a crimson headache

**Author's Note:**

> this is for shootweek18, day 7! headcanon: shaw is better at romance than root

Shaw leans against the door as it closes behind her. Root’s fallen asleep on the couch to some identify theft infomercial playing in the background.

  
She makes towards the sofa, losing her boots and grocery bags on the way.

  
Root stirs and wakes up when Shaw sits beside her.

  
“I made lasagna,” she tells her, eyes still closed and voice heavy with sleep. “It’s on the stove.”

  
Shaw glances at what Root’s wearing and frowns.

  
“Is that my jacket?”

  
“I was cold.” Root sighs, finally opening her eyes. “And it smelled like you.”

  
“Gross.”

  
Root hums and smiles.

  
“I’m glad you’re back.”

  
“Couldn’t have missed me too much. You were out. And you fell asleep with your glasses on.”

  
Shaw reaches over and slides the frames off Root’s face, folding them up before laying them on the coffee table in front of them.

  
“Did you buy groceries?” Root asks through a yawn.

  
“I bought milk and cereal.”

  
“That’ll do.”

  
Shaw snorts.

  
“You should go to bed. You’re exhausted.”

  
Root grins like she has a secret, and Shaw braces herself for what usually follows that specific expression.

  
“I’m still cold,” Root says sweetly.

  
“Yeah. We have blankets.”

  
Root huffs out a lazy laugh.

  
“I had something else in mind.”

  
“Don’t you always?”

  
Root reaches for Shaw’s wrist and gently tugs her forward, inching closer.

  
“Warm me up,” she requests in a whisper.

  
Shaw hesitates, but only for a moment. When Root puts a hand on her face and leans in, she meets her halfway. Her way. And it’s not rough, but it’s not soft. Deliberate. Root cradles her head in her hands and kisses her back, sliding fingers into her hair.

  
This is okay. It’s okay because they’re not about to die. They’re both only here right now because they want to be, and they don’t have an entire world to save this time. This time, they have each other. This time, they have what they fought for.

  
And it’s exhilarating, the thought that the two of them could be anywhere and they ended up in the here and now. It feels right in a way that most things don’t. Most things don’t feel like anything. But this? Everything about them lives and breathes and exists.

  
It’s real. It’s terrifying.

  
Root bites Shaw’s lip as she pulls away and Shaw reads it as a protest.

  
“Feeling hot yet?” Shaw asks.

  
“Mm. I’m practically melting.”

  
“Good.”

  
Root moves her hand up Shaw’s arm, runs her fingertips over the muscles of her bicep.

  
“Take me to bed, Shaw.”

//

She bites at Shaw’s collarbone and tastes sweat, feels Shaw’s hips move against her own. Shaw’s fingers press hard into Root’s back and Root’s thrilled by the idea of Shaw leaving bruises. It’s almost as satisfying as sucking those same bruises into bloom on Shaw’s neck.

  
Shaw brings a hand higher up Root’s body, over her stomach that clenches under Shaw’s touch.

  
(They were always so good at this together, Root thinks.)

  
“Touch me,” she says, and grabs Shaw’s hand, directing it to her chest.

  
_Touch me_ , Root says, but what she means is _feel me_. _Know me_.

  
She hopes Shaw can feel her heartbeat under her hand at this angle.

  
Root kisses her and Shaw’s mouth opens under hers. She feels one of Shaw’s hands shift to her waist and the other to her breast. She pulls away and rests her forehead against Shaw’s and they breathe.

//

“Root,” Shaw growls with a shudder.

  
“Hm?”

  
The sound reverbs against Shaw’s cunt, sending vibrations through her entire nervous system, resonating in her bones.

  
Shaw fists her hands in Root’s hair and rides her face and shakes and begs.

  
Then Root stops and Shaw nearly combusts until she realizes Root is moving up her body.

  
Shaw kisses her and it’s messy and desperate as Root brings her hand to Shaw’s inner thigh. She draws slow patterns with her fingers and slides her tongue over Shaw’s, swallows her moan.

  
When Root brushes her fingers across Shaw’s clit, Shaw twitches and sighs into Root’s mouth.

  
Root pulls back and sits up, still straddling Shaw’s waist. She takes two of her fingers into her mouth and sucks and Shaw groans loudly enough to send a spike of arousal to Root’s gut.

  
Shaw grabs Root’s hips and shoves her to the side, reworking their position so she’s on Root.

  
She takes Root’s hand and brings it to her center, and Root slides her fingers into warm heat. Root can’t help but to inhale sharply, only for it to escape in a puff of air as she laughs once, proudly.

  
“You’re so _wet_ ,” she whines as Shaw starts to move her hips. “And so impatient.”

  
“Shut up,” Shaw tells her, leaning down to capture her lips.

  
Root adjusts the angle of her wrist and adds pressure to every thrust. When she presses further, deeper, dragging her fingers over Shaw’s inner wall, Shaw pulls away to spew a string of curses into Root’s neck, hips rocking with only one purpose.

  
“ _Sameen_ ,” she breathes into Shaw’s ear, and Root hears her breath catch and stop as she stills, clenches around Root’s fingers in a way that Root would like to call beautiful.

  
(She knows Shaw will never admit to coming at the sound of her voice, but this is a memory that will stay with her.)

//

Root can’t focus on sleep now regardless of the number of times she tries. It’s like she can feel her own consciousness, is acutely aware of it, and she can’t shut it off.

  
“I can hear you,” Shaw mutters, nudging her arm into Root’s side, then burying her face in her pillow. “Do you ever stop thinking?”

  
“Sure,” Root says. “Sometimes.”

  
“I’m a little annoyed that I didn’t tire you out.”

  
“What can I say?” Root runs the tips of her fingers down the exposed skin of Shaw’s back, stops at the curve of her ass. “You bring me to life.”

  
“Sleep is a part of life.”

  
“I’m not stopping _you_ from sleeping.”

  
“You are, actually.”

  
Root doesn’t say anything and Shaw closes her eyes.

  
She hears Root shifting around to get comfortable right before she drifts off.

//

Shaw rubs her eyes as she makes her way to the kitchen. She blinks and sees Root settled on the countertop with a bowl of cornflakes, and it’s still dark outside, still the middle of the night. Root’s wearing a shirt, but her legs are bare. Shaw catches a glimpse of lace just above her thighs, so she’s not completely indecent. Whatever. Shaw’s just here for a glass of water. One thing she knows to be true is that she values sleep more than Root does.

  
“Hi, sweetie,” Root greets, voice tracing through the void, finding Shaw somewhere in the chaos.

  
Shaw moves closer and it feels like moving through the universe.

  
“What are you doing?” she asks as she grabs a cup and fills it, then stands beside Root.

  
“Did I wake you up?” Root asks with an apologetic smile.

  
Shaw shrugs and grumbles.

  
“Guess I got used to sleeping next to you.”

  
“That’s sweet, Sameen,” Root croons, leaning over to place her bowl in the sink. She takes the cup from Shaw and sets it on the counter beside her so she can take Shaw’s hands in her own. “Were you worried about me?”

  
Root’s form is something safe to hold onto in the world. Something horribly real. Something that punches at Shaw’s chest until she’s angry about it.

  
Root drops Shaw’s hands to hold her face, and the pads of her thumbs come to graze Shaw’s bottom lip. Root leans in, kisses Shaw like she’s something delicate, dips her tongue into Shaw’s open mouth.

  
Shaw cares less about sleep now and more about how soft Root’s legs are under her touch, and damn it, _her legs_. If Root would ever wear some pants for _fuck’s_ sake, then maybe Shaw would be getting more sleep. But as it stands, she’s been pulled in, and Root seems content to suffocate her.

  
Shaw has to pull away just to breathe, has to keep her eyes closed because she knows that the sight of a half-naked, thoroughly kissed Root will make her sink to the ocean floor, and she’s already trying not to drown.

  
She feels Root slide off the counter, then opens her eyes. Root stands just slightly over Shaw, always hovering, and she feels hands at her waist.

  
“Um,” Shaw says, clearing her throat. “I’m gonna heat up that lasagna.”

//

To Root’s credit, the lasagna is damn good. Shaw has two plates of it and Root’s sitting next to her on the couch, watching her eat like she wishes Shaw was eating something else.

  
“If you’re trying to win me over with food, it’s not working.”

  
Root smiles.

  
“I won you over a long time ago.”

  
Shaw rolls her eyes.

  
“Whatever,” she says (agrees).

  
It’s quiet as Shaw takes her last bite and sets the empty plate on the table.

  
She sighs.

  
“Do you want to talk?” she asks Root.

  
“About what?”

  
Root’s confused frown is pretty convincing and Shaw wonders if she’s read this wrong.

  
“About why you can’t sleep.”

  
“Just your typical, run-of-the-mill insomnia.”

  
“Okay.” Shaw leans back and settles against the cushions. “But it feels like more than that.”

  
Root doesn’t respond right away, so Shaw waits. She stares up at the ceiling and counts the splits in the wood of the beams.

  
“Harold and Grace got married last month,” Root finally says softly.

  
Shaw turns her head to look at Root and the way Root meets her gaze feels heavy.

  
“That’s…good? Right?”

  
Root smiles sadly and Shaw rolls her eyes.

  
“It’s great.”

  
“Then what is it?”

  
“I don’t know.” Root shakes her head. “I guess…I don’t know.”

  
“You want it, too?” Shaw gathers, and Root looks embarrassed about it.

  
“I just want you,” Root tells her. “What we have is always enough.”

  
“But you’ve been thinking about it.”

  
“I think about a lot of things.”

  
Shaw wrestles with that for a moment, sits in the knowledge that Root wants to marry her. That Root has been thinking about something like this.

  
“My parents had a good marriage,” Shaw says. “They were in love. I think. Made it all look so easy.”

  
“Maybe it was easy.” Shaw shoots her a questioning look and Root lifts her shoulders in a small shrug. “If you care about someone enough, I mean. If it’s honest, then everything else is just noise.”

  
Shaw’s interest is piqued at the word “noise.” She thinks she can get behind a concept like that.

//

Root’s eyes get heavier as she talks about the universe, and Shaw grows sleepy just from listening. Not that she’s bored, but it lulls her.

  
When Root pauses between ramblings, her words from before pulse in the back of Shaw’s head.

  
What does Root think about? What does she crave? What can Shaw give her?

  
Is this what her parents had? She doesn’t know. It’s too hard to tell. She doesn’t think she’ll ever know.

  
And would that be wrong, to marry Root for reasons she can’t identify? To marry Root without having a clear grasp on her own emotions? Is that unfair?

  
Shaw thinks, if the universe would let it be, that this is it.

  
But she’s tired, and her brain is swimming in dangerous waters, so she lets sleep take her when Root is already snoring.

//

Root wakes to warm sunlight coming through the windows and an absence of Shaw. After rationalizing that Shaw must have gone for breakfast, she picks herself up off the couch and walks to the kitchen for coffee.

  
The Machine chatters in her ear as she sips from her mug and sits at the island bar, waiting.

  
(And while She’s harder to hear now, She seems to have a lot more to say. A God without Her shackles. Root thinks poetry could be written about it.)

  
Root waits for an hour and starts to worry she’s made Shaw uncomfortable with all her talk of marriage last night. Which, fair, because Shaw is Shaw and Root hadn’t been gunning for anything when she brought it up. But Shaw had asked what was on her mind, and that had been it. They don’t hide parts of themselves away from the other. That’s what Root has always loved about them; they bare it all.

  
She hopes Shaw can appreciate that about them, too.

  
When Shaw finally does return, she steps into the apartment with her hands awkwardly stuffed in her jacket pockets.

  
“Morning,” Root says with a small, nervous smile.

  
Shaw nods and walks over, leans on the bar.

  
Root’s about to ask if everything’s okay when Shaw takes her hand out of her pocket and slides a ring across the counter.

  
They stare at each other (Root stares more at the ring), and Shaw raises her eyebrows.

  
“Well?” Shaw urges.

  
The tears fill Root’s eyes before she even realizes, and she’s sure all the color has drained from her face. She feels her heart resting somewhere in her throat but forces herself to speak.

  
“I…are you proposing?”

  
“Look, this can be easy. Like you said.”

  
“Shaw, you don’t have to do this.”

  
“You don’t have to be afraid to want things,” Shaw tells her. “I can handle it. You’d be surprised.”

  
Root laughs then.

  
“I’m not sure I would be. You’ve always been better at this stuff than me.”

  
“ _What_?”

  
“Yeah, you kissed me then pushed me into an elevator shaft and sacrificed yourself to the enemy.”

  
“That wasn’t _romance_.”

  
“Really?”

  
“ _Yes_ , really.”

  
“You rode a stolen bicycle across the state for me.”

  
“Stop it.” Shaw points at the ring in front of Root. “Are you gonna marry me or not?”

  
“Sameen,” Root says sincerely, still in complete awe of this woman she’ll never deserve a thousand lifetimes over. “I would love to.”

  
“Great.” Shaw puffs out a breath of air. “God, I need a drink.”

  
Root grins and slides the ring onto her finger, then stands to come up behind Shaw.

  
“Well, why don’t we go out tonight?” she asks, places a kiss to Shaw’s neck. “We can celebrate.”

  
“Fine. You’re buying.”

  
“Of course. I’m sure _this_ ,” she says, wiggling her ring finger in front of Shaw’s face, watching the light catch on the diamonds, “was expensive.”

  
Shaw scoffs.

  
“Yeah, right. I stole it.”

  
Root just laughs at the sheer absurdity of it all and holds Shaw tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> shows up to shoot week 15 minutes late with starbucks. yikes! sorry. also i really want to make a part two to go with this!  
> my tumblr is lesbian-root. come talk to me about these gay idiots :~)


End file.
